Home
by Tmae3114
Summary: "I'm going to head back to Gotham now guys," He never says he's going home, because Gotham isn't home. Home isn't the giant mansion, or the hollowed out mountain, or even the circus. Home is, and always will be, an uncharted spiral-shaped tropical island with two kings; even if one isn't there at the moment.


**Disclaimer: Neither of these series are mine. In fact, the basic _idea_ for this story is't even mine. The basic idea I used in this story goes entirley to prongslet101. I would've contacted them and asked for permission but they don't have PMing turned on.**

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"I'm going to head back to Gotham now guys," he says, standing up and heading for the Zeta.

"Dude, just say you're heading home or something sometimes! A few less syllables never hurt anyone," Wally comments from the couch.

"Neither did a few more," he responds, giving his friend a smirk. Wally shrugs noncommittally. Then the Zeta Beam activates, and he's left the Cave.

He checks to see if anyone's around when he exits the phone booth with the 'Out of Order' sign on the door. No one. He turns and heads into the shadows. Wally's words echo around his head and he makes his way back to the Batcave, to Wayne Manor.  
The thing is, there's a reason he never says "I'm going home,". It's because, however much it might feel like it at times, Gotham isn't his home. Yeah, he lives there but that doesn't make it home.

For him, home isn't the great big mansion where he can do almost anything he wants, with Alfred, who's practically a granddad, and Bruce, who's a great mentor and sort-of father figure; the mansion with the secret cave beneath it. Home isn't the place with charity fundraisers and suits and aristocrats and their comments on how he's 'so well behaved'.

Home isn't the giant hollowed out mountain – which often smells of burnt cookies - with a perky martian, a moody semi-kryptonian, a sarcastic archer, a calm atlantean and an ever-hyper speedster.

Home isn't even the travelling circus, which as far as anyone knows –excepting Bruce, Alfred and his family – is where he grew up; with all the performers and animals, and at one point, family members.

The Grayson's were great. Losing them hurt, as much as losing his _actual_ parents did. He may never have known his real parents, but the loss still hurt. Auntie Mary and Uncle John were amazing - how many people do you know that won't even blink when you show up at their trailer door and say "Hey, remember your brother who was heir to the monarchy of a tropical island and left to rule it? I'm his son and I really messed up, can I have a place to stay?" and then proceed to take you in and raise you like their own kid even though you're six-really-sixteen and train you to perform with them and even give you a new name? Not many, that's for sure.  
For three years he stayed with them. No longer with his old name, now he was Richard John Grayson the youngest member of the act; even if mentally he was really older.

Six-really-sixteen. That's how old he was when they took him in. Now he's thirteen-really-twenty-three. He probably should act more his age, but biologically he's only just entered his teens, he has a sort-of excuse.  
He should've _listened_ to his twin when they were in that situation. His twin stopped to think more often than he did. His twin wasn't the one of them that believed they were the fabled 'Kings of Legend' that would someday lead their island into a new age of prosperity, that was himself. What kind of king causes _half the population _of his kingdom to lose _at least four _of their biological years? The three closest to the blast got the brunt of it. A full ten years. He, his twin brother, and their best friend. Everywhere else it ranged. He hadn't been a good king; that was why he had left. His twin had understood, he needed to grow up a little. So he tracked down his father's brother and his family.

Now, he'd lost his uncle and auntie (and his other uncle and auntie and his other cousin), and lived with playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne in a gigantic mansion. By day, he was Dick Grayson, by night, he was Robin, the Boy Wonder. He'd left home to grow up, and that was exactly what he had done.  
Because to him, that was what home was. Home wasn't a mansion, or a hollowed out cave, or a circus. Home was a twin brother who knows him as well as he does, maybe even better, who he could trust with anything and everything. Home was a best female friend who he'd had a crush on since he first saw her, who happens to also love machetes, and who loved adventure. Home was a part-sasquatch father/uncle figure who was stupidly over-protective of his daughter and who gave hugs that felt like they were crushing the life out of you.

If you said the word 'home' to him, in any of his identities, the first thing that will come to his mind is an uncharted spiral-shaped tropical island with a light side and dark side(and so much magical related stuff that Wally would probably have a heart attack), with the people who will _always_ be his family on it.

Most superheroes or protégées(not sidekicks, never sidekicks) have two identities, hero and civilian. He had three.

He was Dick Grayson, ward of Bruce Wayne.

He was Robin, the Boy Wonder.

He was Brady, King of Kinkow.

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**And fin.  
Again, prongslet101 originally came up with this idea. Give them all the credit for the idea of Robin being Brady. I just put my own spin on it. I read their story, thought 'great idea!' and then the age difference between Brady and Robin kept nagging at me, so I thought 'what if he was de-aged' and then lots of different ideas nagged at me for a month or two until I finally caved and wrote this. Ta-da!**


End file.
